Socks and Sighs
by Blue Roses
Summary: What did Dumbledore really see in the mirror of Erised? A tale of love and loss, focussed on our favourite head master.


Socks and Sighs.

What did Dumbledore really see in the mirror of Erised? A tale of love and loss, focussed on our favourite head master.

Author: Blue Roses

Email: [blue_roses42@hotmail.com][1]

A/N: I don't think much has been said about Dumbledore in the series, but if I have gone against canon, I am sorry. This is a distressingly normal fic. It isn't odd really, and it contains no cute boys in it, except, I suppose, for Dumbledore. Oh well. I hope you like it anyway. Slight warning for death and some angst.

***

Socks. That's what I told Harry Potter I saw in the mirror of Erised, reflector of our deepest desires. Socks. Perhaps when I grow so old my memory has entirely gone I shall see nothing but myself and a pair of thick wollen socks, but for now...well, that is not the truth.

She would have liked that as an answer, I know. She was always eminently practical, as well as having a wonderful sense of humour. She looked.. she looked like an angel, that is the only fit comparison. Her eyes were my salvation and her smile was my delight. 

Alianora was her name. She had dark brown eyes, and hair of the same raven shade, that fell to her shoulders in soft curls. I had her company, friendship, and love for only one short year, but I shall have her memory forever, or as long as I can hold onto it.

***

We met in the summer holidays of my final year at Hogwarts, as a student that is. My parents had persuaded me to stay with my uncle Barnaby, who had married a muggle, and had almost given up wizarding altogether. Their house was a confortable one, but living without magic was a revelation to me. It has given me a respect for muggles that I would not otherwise have.

At that time I was quite athletic. Beater for the Griffindor Quiddich team, although few would remember or even believe that now. I amused my self sometimes with long walks in the countryside, when the delights of living with my family had worn off. I visited the muggle villages, and talked to people in their pubs.

Alianora was not a wizard, but to use the word muggle to describe her completely misrepresents her. She was the epitome of beaty and grace. If she had been part of a magical family I would say she was part veela, but she had none of their tawdry virtues. She radiated a magic of her own, I felt, and she had no need of ours.

I met her as she sat watching some of her relations engaged in a game of tennis, a game I have never understood, and aparently neither had she. I was walking by, and seeing her smile, stopped to say good morning. We began talking, and before I knew it I was being invited to tea at her house.

Knowing little of muggle etiquette or topics of conversation in those days, I an afraid I disgraced myself rather badly at that first tea party, but not so badly that I could not make amends, and on further occasions I did so, with a little coaching from my generous aunt.

When the holidays were over I returned to Hogwats with, for the first time, a heavy heart. Alianora and I corresponded daily and our affection grew stronger all the time. When the christmas holidays came I returned to the village where she lived to see her again. Her mother was worried about her future, and her prospects, and I did not want to be parted from her again, so I did the only thing I could. I asked her to marry me.

***

The wedding, everyone agreed, was spectacular. Rose petals and silver ornaments hung in the air, and blue birds carried Alianora's train. The bride looked radiant, and , cliches aside, it was truly the happiest day of my life.

For the next two months I was completely, probably disgustingly, happy. I thought we would live forever. I couldn't imagine any tradgedies sullying our perfectly blue sky. Spring turned to summer and, trite as it may sound, the seasons seemed to be echoing my joy.

***

Unfortunately, not everyone was as happy as I was. Although Voldemort was not as strong then as he later was, the death eaters were still a force to be reconed with, and there was much anti-muggle feeling amoung some sections of wizarding society. I didn't understand this at the time; why would anyone hate the society and relations of the person I loved? 

I believe it was Cecil Malfoy who first brought the strain of the outside world into our house. I think he is the uncle or great uncle of one of our students, Draco Malfoy, but I haven't tried to find out. All of our students start without their previous lives or family connections to help or hinder them in my eyes. I try to be completely impartial, and judge them simply by their behaviour and acheivments.

Cecil came to our door one day to talk to me about some magical matters. It soon became clear that his real mission was to tell me to get rid of Alianora. When I realised this and tried to politely remove him from my house, he began to threaten me. I ignored his threats, and finally he left.

The incident left a nasty taste in my mouth, but I did my best to forget it, and leave it behind me. There were a few other things the next week that brought it to mind, reports of anti-muggle protests, and remarks from some wizards that I didn't know well, but I didn't think that it would touch me again.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

***

The day it happened dawned bright and clear. I had to go out in the morning, so I kissed Alianore goodbye and set off. I remember stopping to look at the honeysuckle on the fence, and seeing her waving to me from the window.

My day was uneventful I remember, no premonitions of what was to come. I was earlier than I thought I would be to lunch, and I was expecting to see Alianora to be in the kitchen.

When she wasn't I called her name, and looked in the dining room. The scene that met my eyes I will never forget.

There was blood eveywhere. It was a vivid deep red, and it was running slowly in patterns on the wooden floor. I couldn't see Alianora's face, but it was obvious from what I could see of her that she was dead. 

I must have sat on that floor for about half an hour before I did anything. Too shocked to cry or move. When I came to my senses I didn't know what to do. I couldn't imagine a life when things as terrible as this would happen. I kept expecting it all to be a nightmare.

My friends looked after all the details when I contacted them. They cleaned the rooms and organised the funeral. I didn't stop crying for days. It rained on the day of the funeral, that is all I remember about it. It was raining, but by the afternoon the sun had come out and there was a rainbow. 

It took me weeks to start functioning again, and months to stop dreading the next day as it came. I never got over Alianora's death, but my anger gave me stength when it came to fighting the Death eaters. Here were some of the people whose anti-muggle feelings killed my Alianora. Maybe by putting them in jail I was jailing the murderers of Alianora, who had never been found.

To this day I do not know who killed her, and to this day I would love to take revenge on whoever it was. It still haunts my dreams, that room, her face and her imagined screams.

Tonight however, I shall go to bed with a smile, and on my feet I shall wear the warm woolen sock that arrived anonymously outside my study door this morning, knowing that there are still people who think of others, and who care.

   [1]: mailto:Email:blue_roses42@hotmail.com



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